


Human or Dancer

by eab5c5



Category: SECHSKIES (Band)
Genre: 1940s, Alternate Universe, M/M, at least i think it's the 1940s, can't remember
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 22:22:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16752559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eab5c5/pseuds/eab5c5
Summary: "Will your system be alright, when you dream of home tonight?" - Human, The Killers





	Human or Dancer

**Author's Note:**

> Deep in the heart of a bustling, 20th century American city a murderer lurks in the night. Suwon didn't think they'd be beautiful. // Sup, losers. This was something I wrote for my creative writing class MONTHS ago and I got a 100% so I guess I'll share it or whatever. Hope you like it.

  From below the creaking floorboards a scratchy sort of tune floats up, rousing Suwon from his seemingly deep slumber. He stirs in his bed, brow furrowing until he opens his eyes and looks into the dim darkness punctured only by shafts of pale moonlight. A clock drones on from the far corner of the room - _tick, tock, tick, tock_ \- and turning to look at it he realizes it’s early morning. Very, early morning. 

  The music continues to play. 

  Slowly lifting from beneath warm covers he slides towards the edge of the mattress until his bare feet make contact with the cold floor. A shiver runs up his spine, and he’s not quite sure whether it’s from the temperature of the room, or the eerie atmosphere that’s becoming more and more apparent. Suwon almost doesn’t want to leave even though he knows he should see what’s going on. Never has going back to bed seemed so welcoming before. Even so, the logical side to him - the one that takes control of his daily life - tells Suwon he needs to check, and so he leaves the final dredges of warmth and pads over to the door. 

  Entering the hallway the music seems to get louder. Suwon follows the familiar tune all the way down the hall, to the split staircase that extends on both sides. He turns his head to the left, and finds himself staring down into the expansive ballroom. What he sees shocks him. 

  Near the center of the room his record player sits on the floor, a disc moving in continuous circles as a nameless figure takes light steps next to it. This stranger dances to the music alone, barely visible even when more moonlight comes in through the large floor length windows. Suwon doesn’t even realize he’s walking towards them until he descends the first step, and somehow the figure notices. 

  Freezing as they stop to look up at him Suwon doesn’t know what to do, a faint buzzing filling his ears as everything stills. It takes a moment for him to realize they’re speaking to him, and if the music was any louder he wouldn’t have been able to hear them at all. What’s even stranger is that it’s not English. After all, Suwon lived in the heart of a large American city, but this person was talking to him in his native language. 

  “Come and dance with me.” 

  For a moment he considered it to be one of his relatives come for a visit, but he knows none of them would do anything like this. Everyone in his family was like him, with a lack of visible emotion and a history of  _ not _ breaking into people’s homes to dance early after midnight. In fact, Suwon thinks he knows exactly who this is - swallowing thickly at the thought - as he starts taking slow steps the rest of the way down into the ballroom. 

  Approaching the figure half-enveloped in shadows their visage becomes clearer, and it’s not what Suwon was expecting. It’s a man, just slightly shorter than Suwon, with cheeks reminiscent of a cherub and a smile that’s probably supposed to be disarming. Dirty blonde locks fall just above deep brown eyes, and it’s a stark contrast from Suwon’s own clean cut, dark brown hair and slightly lighter eyes. They repeat their words, and reach out to take Suwon gently by the hand. All of sudden he feels completely underdressed in his plain, cotton sleepwear as he’s forced to place one foot in front of the other, swept into a strange dance. 

  At first he can’t find any words to speak, doesn’t know what to do with his hands, can’t even contemplate why he hasn’t pushed him away yet. Suwon can only go along with the man’s whims, eventually reaching up to hesitantly put his hand against the stranger’s back. He can feel his own pulse speed up, prominent in his wrist, neck and chest, and hopes the other doesn’t notice. After what seems like forever Suwon finally gets a question out. 

  “Are yo-”

  “Shh.”

  The simple command is enough to get him to shut up, and at the same time the record scratches out, causing the music to end ominously. Flushed in a new sort of silence Suwon now realizes the man has a grip on his arm that’s not painful, but firm enough to silently tell him he should stay in place. Being the forward man he can sometimes be this somehow doesn’t stop Suwon from trying again.

  “You’re the Dancer, aren’t you?”

  A quiet, melodic laugh floats through the almost empty ballroom. Instead of focusing on the noise all Suwon can think about is who the man in front of him actually is. For quite a few months now the city in which he lives has been plagued by a series of strange murders. A statement from a singular survivor (who miraculously lived after being stabbed due to a reversed heart) claims this infamous killer comes into the house late at night, and proceeds to play music loud enough to wake the house’s owner. He then asks you to dance, and depending on how you act, he decides whether or not he should kill you. Of course, the person giving this information to the police was also a registered asylum patient, so most of it held no weight and was laughed off. Rumors spread, ebbed and flowed, and Suwon only heard about the Dancer in passing. 

  Now, here that infamous killer was, with Suwon right in his arms.

  The laughter fades.

  “What a marvelous deduction, Jang. Su. Won.” Each syllable of his name is spoken with a purpose, and Suwon does his best not to jolt in response to the man’s way of speech. In fact, he’s torn about what to focus on - trying to stay alive, and wondering about whether or not he should report this to the police. “Are you scared?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Maybe?” he questions, a light tone of surprise accompanying his words. Suwon watches as the man smiles, pearly whites revealed behind half-plump lips. “Why do you say that?”

  “Well, you...don’t seem to want to kill me. At least, not yet...and,” Suwon swallows thickly, wondering where he’s getting this fake courage from. “Based on accounts from the papers, you could possibly spare me. Most of this is speculation, but, it’s the best answer I can give to you.” 

  Humming to himself, the man eventually steps away from Suwon, releasing him from his hold. Suwon doesn’t move, only watching as the confirmed killer regards him with a sort of contained giddiness. As if he’s found something intriguing. 

  “I didn’t think you’d be quite this interesting, Suwon.”

  “Most people say that about me.”

  He laughs again, this time sounding like he’s actually found something funny. It kind of scares Suwon, but he pushes down the fear to seem more aloof. He expects the Dancer to keep talking, but he only backs away from Suwon more, hands clasped behind his back like he’s got a secret to keep. It’s so quiet, and Suwon hopes he’s the only one hearing the crazy pounding of his heart from within the cage of his chest. It keeps beating, even as the Dancer turns away with a smile, but not after saying something that makes Suwon’s blood run cold.

  “I’ll come back soon.”

  The Dancer exits the room, and Suwon doesn’t move for a good five minutes until he can’t do it anymore, slumping to the ground. He lets out a heavy breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. It’s the first time in his life that he’s ever been so scared, and  _ to think, he’ll be here again another night! _ Maybe not tomorrow, but some other time, and at this Suwon realizes he’ll have to play the same charade once more.


End file.
